


The Rest of The World (Is Beautifully Vivid)

by shores



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Shower Sex, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 10:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shores/pseuds/shores
Summary: Sombra draws the world for her.





	The Rest of The World (Is Beautifully Vivid)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacewitchescantdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewitchescantdie/gifts).

> I loved the idea of Sombra being Widow's connection to the rest of the world a lot. :(

Widowmaker's studying the upcoming mission's report when, right in the middle of the space between her bed and the table she's sitting at, Sombra appears.

Widowmaker registers every second of the process; frame by frame, one fiber at time — blood and bones and flesh, Sombra re-assembles herself swiftly. Not one part misplaced.

Sombra looks around her, and frowns. "I missed my spot by four inches."

Widowmaker watches her in silence. She's searched her quarters thoroughly for Sombra's translocator, and any foreign device for that matter, and found nothing.

  
"Did you need anything?" Widowmaker asks indifferently.

"A shower, maybe a drink. And you. Preferably all at once. I'm on a tight schedule here, Amélie."

As always, Sombra utters her name with no malice or jest, with no diminishing of the life it has held or the person it has belonged to.

There's a purpose behind uttering it in the first place, and Widowmaker doesn't object to it.

She can't.

Hearing the name reminding her of a life that's been stolen from her doesn't tug at her heart painfully because Talon has perfected their work, rendering emotions out of her reach.

_Rendering her out of emotions' reach._

  
"I have work to do."

Sombra's already removing her weapons and clothes. "I have things to share."

"I'm not interested."

Sombra hums nonchalantly. "That's debatable."

Sombra bares fully before heading for the bathroom.

After a moment, Widowmaker follows her.

There's a stirring in her gut. Too vague and subtle for her to define, but present enough to provoke her.

  
Sombra starts her usual chatter the moment Widowmaker enters the bathroom, and when Widowmaker gently combs her fingers through her hair, she groans in relief.

WIdowmaker lets the water wash over them. She caresses Sombra with fingertips that lack everything one needs, gentleness and care, and keeps doing that until both of her and Sombra are basking in said gentleness and care.

They come slowly, Widowmaker feels them first. Melted warmth that fuels her to press just enough, to bury her fingers in wet hair and softly tug and tug until Sombra leans backward against Widowmaker.

The evident contrast between the temperature of their bodies makes Sombra shudder, but she doesn't pull away.

(The hot water soaking the two of them is probably the reason why Sombra endures the stark difference, but something, something in the back of Widowmaker's mind, feeble and distant, tells Widowmaker that Sombra endures this for her. For her sake.)

Steam and heat will eventually warm Widowmaker's skin, so Widowmaker doesn't worry.

She massages Sombra's scalp, and listens to satisfaction seeping into her voice as she tells her about the world beyond the deaths and chaos that Widowmaker and Talon are causing.

Every word, every image they provoke, strengthens that deep tremor until it thrums in her veins and she's incited to touch beyond Sombra's scalp.

First, she squeezes Sombra's shoulders, pours gentleness in her hands as she relieves the muscles from stress and tiredness.

Then, she cups Sombra's breasts, and feels something akin to fire erupting within her.

"Took you long enough," Sombra says, and takes one of Widowmaker's hands and guides it between her thighs.

Widowmaker's heart reacts to that; to the mellowness of Sombra's pussy. It beats unsteadily for a second, and that used to be a rare occurrence. An impossibility that Sombra has ended out of sheer fun.

_Or has it been sheer fun and not a selfish endeavour to draw a personal ally out of her?_

  
Wondering about Sombra's motivations strikes her mind again, and if they weren't doing this, she'd have dwelt on that thoroughly, but now... now she is motivated by aspects of her that have been squashed and buried under a void.

Feelings and desires and needs. All pulled to the surface and rekindled.

They're weak, but they drive Widowmaker into kissing Sombra's neck deeply, into grazing her teeth on skin and suck eagerly as she strokes Sombra's pussy lightly.

Sombra groans, squirming hard enough for Widowmaker to hold her tightly. "Seriously? You're gonna tease me when I've been working nonstop all week? When I made time just to—"

Widowmaker firmly lodges two fingers into her, her mouth still painting Sombra's neck with red and purple.

"Fuck, fuck!" Sombra holds her wrist, whimpering as she leans fully on her.

She worriedly grasps her hip.

Widowmaker won't let her slip. The mere thought of Sombra being injured hurts her to a degree that someone else might consider... laughable. Embarrassingly weak.

It isn't like that for Widowmaker; that tiny level of fear and that feeble twist in her gut and that fleeting pang in her heart, just like the comfort the hot water now brings her and the lust simmering in her pussy and the flickering joy of knowing that the Eternal team, one of the first French teams composed of humans and Omnics, is reclaiming their old glory, make her tremble. Make her feel her missing pieces.

"Easy now," Widowmaker mumbles.

Sombra's tight around her fingers, wet and hot and soft. Widowmaker adds another finger, wanting to feel more of her, and adjusts the angle so that Sombra can ride her hand properly until she's standing on her toes.

She's vulnerable like this. She's been vulnerable since the moment she laid her weapons on Widowmaker's table.

She _feels_ vulnerable _to her_, Widowmaker corrects herself. But in reality, she isn't.

_Is she?_

"Tell me more about the show you accidentally won tickets for."

"Wha— It was deadly!" Sombra lets out, her hips rocking, "deadly boring! I'm never lucky in these kinds of things, you know. Have I told you about that one time..." Sombra's voice breaks with moans and mewls, but she keeps going, she keeps giving Widowmaker bits and pieces of the beautifully vivid world she isn't supposed to yearn for.

That's why Widowmaker doesn't care about Sombra's true motives.

Because with Sombra, she's able to care and not care in the first place.


End file.
